


There's Only You in Here

by serohtonin



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serohtonin/pseuds/serohtonin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Kurt are “just friends,” except not really. Reaction fic/missing scene from 4.14 "I Do." Title from The xx's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVLVNLuC33w">“Reunion.”</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Only You in Here

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Of course, I own none of these characters.

He pushes me down against the back seat, but we’re just friends.

He kisses me like I'm his air and the oxygen he's been breathing the past few months has only been a poor substitute, but we're just friends.

He unbuttons my shirt, caressing my chest tenderly, despite the frantic need that’s been brewing between us.  
  
We're just friends.

His light stubble grazes my neck as he reaches for my zipper, and I reach for his.   
  
"It feels so good to touch you again," he breathes hotly into my ear, "but we're just friends."  
  
"This is just bros helping bros," I agree jokingly soon after that.

When he catches my eye before the ceremony starts, mirth and fondness sparkle in his bright blues, in a way that I haven’t seen since that awful night in October. His whole face lights up, the way it had when we first discovered how the other tasted, but, of course, it doesn't mean anything.  
  
We're just friends.  
  
Despite the failed wedding, we perform for the crowd, falling into step easily. I sidle close enough to him to share a microphone, tension still burning between us, the kind that "just friends" share.  
  
Just friends, my ass.  
  
We slow dance, for the first time in months. He doesn't stop me from bringing him in closer, my hands finding their home on his back. I can feel him smile when I tuck my face into his shoulder, but that's just how friends react, right?  
  
His heart hums against my own. He whispers low, so that only I can hear, "Come back to my room, Blaine."  
  
I sigh happily and nod my assent. We're just friends, who sometimes don't even need words to understand each other.  
  
He smirks when he grabs me by the tie, triggering a memory of Dalton and clandestine makeouts in my room. He obviously remembers the little gasp of pleasure I made against his lips, and our furious blushes when I insisted we cool off.  
  
But there’s no cooling off now.

Now we know exactly where to kiss and touch to make each other fall apart, which he aims for rather quickly once we enter his room.

  
He presses me against the closed door, our bodies slotting together perfectly, almost exactly like before, except he’s so much more sure and aggressive than ever, which only makes me want him more. Our mouths connect hungrily. His lips leave mine to nip at my jaw and neck. One of my hands fly to his hair, while the other slides underneath the back of his jacket. He deftly unties my tie, and tugs on it once more, "for good measure," he comments with a sly grin, and then he works the buttons of my shirt open, sucking kisses along the strip of newly-revealed skin.

He crawls back up my body and kisses me roughly while he leads me away from the door, slipping my jacket and shirt off in one go.

"C'mon, Kurt," I whine, practically ripping his jacket off.

“Now, now,” he chides, with a finger to my lips. “You know how I feel about my clothes.” He parts my slightly open lips even further with his finger, and I eagerly suck at it, looking straight into his eyes. He pulls his finger out, dragging it down my chin, all the way to my chest as he leans in closer again. “Though honestly, I could care less about clothes right now.” He shrugs out of his shirt, kissing me again.

I take control, finally steering him to the bed with my hands to his bare chest, continuing to kiss him, but before I can push him down, he hooks his fingers in my belt loops and pushes me down instead.

He doesn't say another word, opting for kissing and grinding against me. I desperately claw at his back, wanting to make marks, a tangible reminder that he can feel when he's hundreds of miles away again.

"Ugh, need you, inside me. Please," I beg, not even caring how I sound, because I'm here, in Kurt's arms, where I never thought I'd be again, even if we're just friends. "Did you bring-?" I start between more frantic kisses and touches, my hands squeezing his ass.

" 'Course. I'm nothing, if not prepared."

I kiss him quick and hard. He moans, returning the kiss even harder, and pressing me into the bed with the force of it. "You are amazing. You’re fucking perfect," I murmur against his lips, unable to hold back my feelings.

He breaks away to look at me, his blue-green eyes still so intoxicatingly close. "Blaine," he says. “We’re still just friends, okay?”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Best friends. So, c’mere, _best friend.”_

I pull him back in for another kiss, thrusting up into it so that our cocks brush together. I sigh into it, but it’s not enough. I slip my fingers under his briefs, fitting my hands around the curves of his ass.  


“Off. Now,” is all I can manage when I hear that tone and catch the fading scent of cologne against his neck. For a moment, a sense of nervous anticipation mixes with my arousal, like we’re back in my bedroom the first night we saw each other naked, and decided to be each other’s first everything.  
  
But that was over a year ago, and we’re just friends now.  
  
“Yeah. Okay,” he answers quickly, shimmying out of his pants and underwear. He kicks his shoes off awkwardly, barely moving from his position on top of me. Then he’s shuffling back, affording me a view of his fully exposed body.  
  
I lean up on my elbows, shamelessly taking him in, my eyes immediately drawn to his cock, a beautiful, dusky pink, the same shade that’s creeping up his chest. My mouth waters with the memory of his musky taste, heavy on my tongue, and I really, really would like to experience that again tonight.  
  
Apparently, he’s said something, because he’s standing at the foot of the bed, one eyebrow arched at me. “Like what you see?” he teases.  
  
I nod dumbly.  
  
“Good. Then, take your pants off.”  
  
It’s difficult to concentrate when he’s still standing there naked, but I gather enough coordination to fling my shoes off and wrestle out of my pants, and then my underwear.  
  
He licks his lips and laughs. “There’s no way I am fucking you with your socks on, again, Blaine Anderson.”  
  
I chuckle, breaking some of the tension as he pulls my socks off and throws them across the room.  
  
"Where were we?" He starts to saunter back, but then he spins on his heel. "Oh, wait!"   
  
My breath hitches watching the muscles in his thighs flex as he bends down to where his pants fell, retrieving something out of them presumably. "Did you...bring condoms?" I somehow ask through the muddled haze of desire clouding my brain

He’s back to facing me, kneeling on the bed between my slightly spread legs.

“People hook up at weddings, Blaine,” he states matter-of-factly. “I told you, I came prepared.”  
  
“But you--I’m the only--”  
  
“Shut up and let me fuck you,” he snaps.  
  
I spread my legs a little further, a twinge of arousal hitting me at the return of his commanding tone. I shiver as his gaze travels over my entire body, seeming to settle somewhere below my waist.  
  
His expression softens for a second, almost like the tentative, shy Ohio teenager I used to know, the one who was so afraid of hurting me, and so in awe that he simply stared before being prompted to, _"fucking, do something, Kurt."_  
  
But then, it's gone, almost as quickly as I noticed it, and he demands coldly, “Turn over.”  
  
“Okay." I follow what he says, getting on my knees and resting my head against my forearms on the pillow. We've experimented with different positions before, and though we preferred face-to-face, when we did do it this way, I found that it was more comfortable than strictly being on all fours.  
  
"That's actually...perfect."  
  
I turn my head to grin at him. "It hasn't been that long, has it?"  
  
"No, I guess not," he shrugs, a small smile betraying his face.  
  
He kisses the base of my spine, maybe out of reflex, because he’s done it so many other times previously, before flicking open what I guess is a small bottle of lube, and coating his fingers with the substance.  
  
I wince at the intrusion, already grunting and clenching around one digit.  
  
“Guess it has been that long,” Kurt adds, and I can imagine the teasing smile returning.  
  
His finger presses deeper, and I immediately push back on it. “Unhhh, just, gimme more.”  
  
“Blaine, you’re not--”

“Don’t care. More. Please. Want to feel you.”  
  
He slips another finger in, crooking them both and finding that spot deep inside.  
  
It’s a little overwhelming when I feel his erection on my ass, so close to where I want it. “Ohhh, fuck.Oh, my God.” I straighten my arms and lift my head to reach for my own cock.  
  
“Hold on, hon.” My heart stutters at the accidental slip of endearment, even as he adds a third finger, which stretches and burns a little, but it’s a welcome pleasure-pain. “I’m not even--I don’t want to--” He thrusts a few times more, and then pulls out, leaving me empty and groaning.  
  
I hear the wrapper tearing open, Kurt muttering something, and after several tense moments, he sighs in relief.  
  
Without a word, he grasps my hips and pushes inside with only two quick motions. He stills, letting me adjust, but I don’t want to adjust.  
  
I want it to hurt, want him to own my body again, as much as he's always owned my heart. “I’ll be fine. Move.”  
  
He hesitates, but then pulls out a little, slowly dragging his cock inside me.  
  
I roll my eyes, though he can’t see. “Ugh, faster. I know you want to.”  
  
He squeezes my hips, pulling out almost fully, his head catching on the rim, causing me to jerk faster. Then he slams back in again and again.  
  
“Yeah, fuck. Harder. Fuck me harder.”   
  
He thrusts more roughly, grunting as his balls slap against my ass.  
  
“Shit. Yeah, right there,” I match my rhythm to his, gripping the base when he pulls out, and thumbing at the head when he pushes back inside. “Unghh, ‘m gonna come.”   
  
He’s all the way inside, and then his chest covers my back, fully enveloping me in the heat of his body. He whispers in my ear, with a voice lower than I’ve heard in a long time, “Do it.”  
  
I let out a whimper, stroking a couple more times. My breathing speeds up, and then I’m letting go, spilling all over the sheets.  
  
I’m shaking with aftershocks, and the strain of wanting to collapse, but he’s still fucking into me. **  
**

"Unhh, unhh, Blaine," his voice drops to a breathy whisper that I never thought I'd hear again, and my oversensitive cock twitches, wanting to spring to life.  
  
His blunt nails dig into my hips, and then I feel him pulsing inside me.  
  
A minute or so, and one long exhale later, he pulls out.   
  
I crash onto my stomach, a weight sinking down beside me.  
  
"Shit," he exclaims.   
  
I risk a glance at his body, a sheen of sweat glistening over him and a sleepy smile floating across his face.  
  
I wonder if I'm still the only one who's seen this smile, now that we're just friends.  
  
Friends who can't keep our hands off each other, and slow dance to love songs on Valentine's Day. Friends who spend Christmas with each other's family. Friends who continue to find comfort and love in each other, although I somehow always manage to screw it up.   
  
I can never go back to being just friends with Kurt Hummel.   
  
I'll want him forever, in every way. However long that takes and how difficult that might be, I'll wait until I can truly be with him again.  
  
I'll wait the rest of my life if I have to.  
  
I must have been staring too long because he looks back at me, his brow furrowing. "You okay?"  
  
"I--I don't know. I think I will be."  
  
"Oh my God, you don't regret it, do you, because--?"  
  
I kiss his shoulder. "Today has been amazing. I could never regret being with you. Never."  
  
He sighs softly, and turns on his side to face me. "Good, because I'd like to get off again and it's still early."  
  
I nudge him onto his back, and kiss him, but this one is different than all the others we've recently shared. It feels less urgent than before, like we can just  be  and appreciate each other. I cup his cheek and don't try to deepen it despite our legs tangling when I sort of straddle him.   
  
He hums into it contentedly, but I break away, knowing we should probably talk about what's happened. "Kurt, I-"

He interrupts me harshly, "Whatever you're about to say, please, don't. Don't ruin this."  
  
"But I'm not--"  
  
His eyes stray away from mine. "Blaine, I-I'd rather not talk right now."  
  
That’s a better idea, at least for now, because here he is, below me, still so beautiful, still wanting me, and still very, very naked.   
  
“Alright.” I stroke his cheek, letting my hand slowly wander down his chest, all the way to his inner thigh. “How about we not talk a little more?” I try seductively, wrapping my hand around his cock.  
  
“S-sounds good to me.”  
  
I lightly kiss his jaw, his neck, ghosting over the scar at the latter spot.  
  
He releases a small,  “Ohh,”  as my mouth traces the path of my hand. I suck at his thigh, continuing to jerk him to full hardness.  
  
“Blaine,” he moans.  
  
I look up at him playfully. “I thought you said no more talking.”  
  
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Then, quit talking.”  
  
I nibble at the crease of his thigh, and start sucking again, making my way over to one of his balls.  
  
I tease the other with my fingers, knowing how it makes him come apart that much faster.  
  
“Come onnn,” he nearly whines.  
  
I respond by licking a strip up his cock, and then sucking at his other ball.  
  
“Blaineee.”  
  
I trail my lips along the shaft, and place a kiss at the head before taking him in my mouth, letting my hands fall to his hips.   
  
He tastes, and smells, exactly like I remember: masculine, clean, and something else I'm not quite sure how to describe that's probably just him. It feels so good to have him like this again, hot and heavy on my tongue, that I force myself to ignore my own growing hardness as he grabs the back of my head. Instead, I hollow my cheeks out to take him in deeper. **  
**

“Ohh, ohh, fuck.” His hips start to raise off the bed, a sign that he’s getting close. I don’t hold him down, and allow him to practically fuck into my mouth.  
  
I pinch his side, and when he looks into my eyes, I nod as much as I can, signaling that he can thrust harder if he wants to.  
  
He pushes at the back of my head, forcing his dick all the way down my throat. I hold back a gag at the sudden change in angle. I squeeze at the top of his thigh, and when he pulls back up my throat, I grab onto the base of his dick and suck at the head, looking him straight in the eyes.  
  
His kiss-swollen mouth falls open. Then, he says my name, so low I can’t even hear it, only see it forming on his lips, almost like the very first time I went down on him. He was so in awe and so trusting that he hardly made a sound when he came, and I awkwardly choked on it, ruining the moment in tears of laughter once he finished.  
  
There isn’t any laughter or awkwardness now. He releases down my throat, and I simply take it. I still keep my mouth on him until he’s done, and he drops back to the bed in exhaustion.  
  
I pull off, now painfully aware of my own hardness.  
  
“C’mere,” he requests.  
  
I comply, and he moans when I start to kiss him deeply on the mouth. A brief memory flashes to my mind of how I teased him for being conceited when he wanted me to kiss him like this, though secretly I thought it was hot. He said after that he just wanted to be close to me, to remember that it was me who made him feel like that, and not just some stranger’s mouth.  
  
With this in mind, I press myself against his thigh, and kiss him deeper so he can feel how much I still want him, and that I’m not a stranger, or just a friend he’s using to get off.   
  
Maybe he realizes this, too.  
  
His hands lazily clasp together around the back of my neck as I rub against him. I’m not sure if it’s okay to come on him, but he doesn’t stop me, so I keep going.  
  
He breaks from my mouth, as if reading my mind. “It’s okay. You can--you can come on me,” he says almost uncertainly, reaching down between us to take hold of my cock. “Open your eyes. I wanna see you,” he adds quickly after that. **  
**

He's dizzyingly close, staring back at me with such an intense concentration that it steals away what little breath I have left, and when he swipes at the head of my cock, I come all over his thigh with a groan.  
  
He silently traces lines up and down my back as I lie there slumped against him, attempting to regain control of my breathing.  
  
Here, in the quiet, cool air of the room, now that we've mostly satisfied our need for each other after so long going without, it doesn't feel awkward at all, it just feels like  us,  like we never stopped doing this at all.  
  
But we did, and now, we're supposed to share all this, and just return to being friends.   
  
Kurt jostles me from my thoughts by tapping my shoulder, "Hey, Blaine."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Are you asleep?"  
  
I lift my head from his shoulder. "Nope."  
  
"Then, get off me, because you're super heavy."  
  
I pout at him dramatically. “You’re mean.”  
  
He pushes at my collarbone until I roll off of him. “Would a mean person try to jerk you off in the backseat of a car, and then get you off twice, later?” He lies on his side, facing me but not touching me.  
  
I turn on my side to face him and squint my eyes, pretending to consider the answer. “Meh, I suppose not, though your motivations weren’t purely unselfish.”  
  
He shrugs, his eyes drifting down my body. “True, but have you seen  yourself?”  
  
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Kurt Hummel, are you trying to say I’m irresistible?”  
  
“Maybe,” he grins. Then he clears his throat, his smile faltering. “Don’t think that means anything, though.”  
  
I flop onto my back, audibly sighing. I don’t say anything more, letting him keep his guard up, because it’s late, and we’re both tired, and sticky. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with him.  
  
It never does.

“I need a shower. Do you wanna shower?” he asks casually, sitting up.  
  
“No, not now.” I grab his wrist. “Stay in bed with me.”  
  
He searches my face.  
  
I pout at him again. “Please.”  
  
He lays back down beside me.“Fine. If you stop with that face, but not for too long. We’re disgusting.”  
  
I run my fingers down the middle of his chest. “Don’t care.”   
  
His breath tickles my ear when he leans in to whisper, "Well, you better not fall asleep if you plan on joining me in the shower."  
  
I let out a gruff exhale. "You are insatiable."  
  
"What? It's only a shower," he smirks as he pulls back.   
  
"Please," I scoff. "You're not sweet and innocent anymore. I'm on to your game."  
  
"I'm surprised you're not asleep yet. I thought I tired you out," he quickly retorts.  
  
"Do you  want  me to sleep?"  
  
"Yeah, if it'll shut you up."   
  
I nudge his ankle with my foot. "Mean."   
  
"I'll make it up to you later."  
  
"Oh, yeah?"  
  
"Perhaps." He curls his hand around my side and kisses me, his tongue expertly parting my lips. One of my hands glides across the small of his back to pull him closer. I throw my leg over his, not with the intention of starting anything, but to keep him as near as possible. His hand grazes my ass while his tongue pushes in deeper. I bring my hand up to cradle his cheek, but then he untangles our legs and suddenly backs away. "Yeah, definitely later. I actually would like to rest."  
  
"Who tired out who, then?" I tease, trailing my fingers along his neck, and down the curve of his shoulder.  
  
He takes my hand and gently rests it against my side. "I'm taking a nap."  
  
"Wait, can I-can you hold me, or is that against friend rules or something?"   
  
He half-smiles, but then he turns away from me. " 'Night, Blaine."  
  
I stare at his back and let exhaustion take me. **  
**

\----  
  
He’s staring at me, with that adorably crinkly-eyed grin, almost like he did before he moved to New York, before I ruined everything.  
  
I must be dreaming.  
  
His grin disappears. Then, the bed is empty. I reach out, patting the space next to me. It’s still warm.  
  
I stretch over to the pillow on his side of the bed, and it still smells like him.  
  
Last night actually happened.  
  
There’s still hope.  
  
Maybe I wasn’t dreaming.  
  
I hear the shower running in the bathroom, and decide to put on my t-shirt and boxers. I return to bed, dozing off a little longer.  
  
\----

When I wake up, Kurt’s in front of the mirror, changing into his clothes from last night.  
  
I sit up, leaning on my elbows. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” He sort of smiles, like last night, right before he turned away from me.  
  
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “You look even better in that than you did yesterday.”  
  
“Thanks. I know it’s kind of tacky but I don’t even care at this point.”  
  
I walk over to the chair and put my suit pants back on. “I’ll be right there with you. We’ll be tacky together.”  
  
He snickers. “We’re just friends, Blaine.”  
  
“So you’ve reminded me a hundred times. You can say it ‘til you’re blue in the face. Last night meant something,” I sit on the corner of the bed, “to both of us.”  
  
He focuses on the task of buttoning his shirt, breaking eye contact with me.  
  
“C’mon. Tell me now that we’re not back together.”  
  
“I mean, it was fun,” he shrugs, “but--”  
  
I stop him, raising my voice.“I’m not gonna let you minimize this, Kurt. It’s no accident that we were together on Christmas, and  again on Valentine’s Day.” I pick up his jacket from where he left it on the bed. “And we’re going to be together for many, many more,” I help him into his jacket and brush his shoulders off, making sure our eyes meet again, “no matter how much you pretend that this doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
He’s smiling, and he’s not denying me, or us.  
  
I’ll take it.  
  
He twirls around to face me, and glances down at my lips. For one brief second, I think he’s about to kiss me, but then he leans in, his voice pitching low, like last night. “I’ll see you downstairs.”  
  
Fuck. All the blood rushes back to my groin, but I try to ignore it. “Okay,” I answer back, letting him leave.  
  
I hold back my rejoicing until the door closes.  
  
We’re not over, and I’m not giving up.  
  
I don’t think he has, either.

\----  
  
The next day at school is a pretty good confirmation, when I learn he practically defended my honor to Tina at the reception, all the while declaring later on in the conversation, that we’re still just friends.  
  
I look down and bite my tongue, because I swear, if I hear him say that one more time, my head might explode.  


He’s repeated that phrase so much that I’m not sure he even believes it anymore.  
  
I certainly don’t, and I never will.


End file.
